In the Cell
by Dream of Californication
Summary: In progress... It's about Snake and Jund in prison. Snund AU. Scott becomes Snake's cellmate, and, despite mutual hate, limited living space, and snarky comments, they slowly warm up to each other. *Alright... this is going to probably contain SMUT... I am so sorry... I am probably offending so many people...*
1. Newbie

**Fucking hell. I am sorry. So damn sorry. I'm a melting pot of fucked-up'ed-ness.**

**One part persistence, one part carbon, a dash of hemophobia, and a cup of nyctophilia. The garnish?**

**Derangement.**

**-D.O.C**

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**I... I don't really have a disclaimer. Only an apology.**

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There was a certain hierarchy in every prison.

The scum, the ones who were always killed in some awful, albeit deserved, way, were pedophiles and molesters.

Next came woman-beaters and rapists, along with rapist/murderers, then came the arsonists.

Up above them came the petty burglars and thieves, then assailants, then the heist-pullers. The big dogs.

At the very top were murderers, the kind that killed rival gang members, or sly cops, or government workers. The ones families wanted to get the chair. The ones who devised ways to kill fellow prisoners with a ball-point pen's discarded cap.

That's where a man fell. A man with grayish-brown hair, falling to his shoulders. The one with pale, soulless, ice-blue eyes.

He wore his bright-orange suit with something akin to boredom, instead of shame or pride. He wasn't like the others.

"Yo, Snake!" A laughing character was walked past his cell, cuffs sparkling on his wrists, "You were right, you dirty fuck! They got me, again!"

"Not surprised," the man's rasping voice filtered through his bars.

"You lookin' to get offed, bitch?!" The captured thief lunged, but two guards pulled him back on course.

"As if you could." Snake replied, graveled voice on the edge of taunting.

When the concrete corridor was clear, once again, the male relaxed on his bunk.

He listened contently to the whispered threats floating from cell to cell, the murmured sweet nothings, the declarations of vengeance, the groans of boredom, and raunchy propositions.

"All of you are sick," he called out, after a deep voice asked for a... _favor_ from a higher-pitched, and a chorused denial washed around his ears, as bigger men defended their right to their bitches.

"Just 'cause you ain't never tried it-"

"Because it's wrong." He deadpanned, and an uproar sounded.

"Probably because you're the bitch!"

"Yeah, your little ass must be tight!"

"I bet'chu want it every night, but'chu too 'fraid to ask for it!"

He wouldn't answer them. Not with words... or a fight. Especially when a fight would result in a few body-bags and his jumpsuit covered in blood.

He didn't fancy going to solitary confinement.

Snake liked quiet, but he wasn't too keen on it if it was a deafening silence.

But then, a hush fell over the hall, and a few catcalls were made.

"Mmm, gonna tear that up."

"Not if I get 'em, first!"

His cell opened, and he perked up, angrily.

"Calm down, Snake. You can deal with a cellmate."

"Oh, I know I can." He growled at one of the guards, who placed a hand on his stun-gun. A warning.

He laid his head back down, air whistling through his teeth.

Snake heard a pair of feet scuff over the concrete floor, and he made a mental note to make his new _roomie_ sweep out any dust he tracked in.

The door slid back into place, and heavy locks were activated.

Once the guards were gone, he snapped, "I will fucking kill you."

He relished in the sound of the newbie's jaws clicking shut, probably from when they parted to give a greeting.

Opening his eyes, Snake sat up from his bed, looking across the small cell to assess his foe.

A lanky, boyish male stood near his own bunk, not even daring to sit down- whether it be from fright, politeness, or the fact there was a scattering of library books over its entirety.

"You brought in dust," Snake snarled, standing from his bunk and advancing toward the stranger.

The teenage-esque man raised his gaze, dark eyes flashing at the veteran prisoner.

"Why don't you go choke on someone's dick?"

Snake halted at the venomous tone, and snapped his fist backwards, close enough to strike the impudent whelp.

At the last moment, the stranger dodged the blow, and cried out, "CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"

The taller man growled, turning to face the newest addition, again.

The dark-eyed male stood against the far wall, "So... eh, what's your story?..."

"How about I tell the story about how you fuck off?" Snake twitched in irritation, starting to stack up his books, deciding to ignore the other.

"You're... Snake, right?"

Silence.

"Well, I'm Soup."

An eyebrow raised.

The skinny man's face reddened, in embarrassment. "Shit... I meant Scott..."

_'He just messed up his own name. Fucking moron.'_

"You can call me Jund, if you want."

"I thought your name was, 'Soup,'"

"Fuck off." Scott hissed.

"Whatever, Campbell." The larger male narrowed his piercing eyes, "Stay the fuck away from me."

"Too bad we're bunking together, then." Was the muttered reply.

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**Gonna post this on Tumblr.**

**Never seen a prison-set Snund fic.**

**Sorry.**

**-D.O.C**


	2. Calendar

**Thank you, to the six people who liked this! XD**

**As long as there's one person who enjoys reading this, it's worth writing! :)**

**-D.O.C**

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**Diclaimer, I guess...? Well, I don't own Snake and Jund... So...**

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_'Day one, still no conversation.'_ Scott thought, growling in pain as he gripped his head.

He had made the mistake of complaining of boredom, and Snake whipped a heavy copy of _Lord of the Flies_ across the small cell.

It struck him in the back of the skull, and he currently had a knot from the collision.

"Shut up."

Jund complied, if only to prevent further assault.

**8888888888888**

The lanky man curled up on his bunk, sighing as he picked at the paint on the wall.

Once a bit of off-white was pulled from the gray brick, it was quite easy to start a paint-chip farm.

When Snake found it, he made him clean it up, twisting his arm harshly, hand clamped firmly over the younger's lips, forcing him to sweep the bits out the bars with his free hand.

Now, he was confined to his bed, because, every time he tried to get up, another classic novel was lobbed at his head.

_'Day two, still no words exchanged, other than the usual, "Shut up."'_ He made a mental note, leafing through Lord of the Flies, lip curling in distaste.

_'It's just like high school, but with crappier meals, scarier peers, and boarding included.'_

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"You know, I never thought I would have got caught."

Snake snapped his novel shut, glaring harshly at the boyish man.

"Shut your damn mouth, already."

Scott scrunched his thin, long legs closer to his body, fingernails playing with a large chip of paint. He was extra careful to only pull off big pieces, and not crumble tiny bits onto Snake's floor.

"You never did tell me what you're in for," He raised his brows, cheeky grin stretching his lips.

_'This kid just won't shut up...'_ The older man grumbled, inwardly, "What do you think I did?"

Jund's brown eyes lit up at the proposition of any form of entertainment.

"You look like a soldier that went AWOL, or deserted, or something." He finally decided, scrutinizing the other.

"And, why do you think that?" Snake's eyebrow cocked.

Scott's smile grew. At least he wasn't being threatened, like the past two days as a prisoner.

"You look like you're some video game assassin. I dunno. Like a double agent or a government spy," Jund made a karate-chop motion with his hand, shivering when he saw the annoyance in the pale blue eyes.

"I killed a man."

Scott sucked air into his cheeks, shutting his eyes.

After a full minute of silence, he opened them, again, "I... thought you were just trying to act tough, when you said you would..."

Snake's expression was still blank, and he looked quite bored with the other male's surprise.

"Are you done, now?"

The thin man clenched his jaw shut, refusing to look at his cellmate.

"I don't really like this whole arrangement, now."

"Did you ever like it, in the first place?" The monotone reply was laced with disgust.

"It wasn't so bad."

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Five days later, Scott grinned at the calender that was delivered, approved by a guard.

He hastily crossed off already-used days, counting months ahead with a happy sound slipping past his lips.

"What the hell did I say about noise?" A groaned response came from underneath Snake's wool blanket.

Jund shivered, cold fingers running down his spine. He still wasn't accustomed to sharing a cell with a confirmed killer.

"Sorry, Snake." His reply was curt, sarcastic, and bordering on angered.

The bigger man sat up, hair sticking around his head, "What are you even doing?"

"Counting the days, until I get outta here." Scott smiled, circling the date, months ahead, with the small felt-tipped pen. It was too small, too thin, to make a reasonable weapon out of, the prison guards had decided.

Snake raised his brows. "What?"

"I have a second chance later. And, I'm gonna get out of here."

"A court date?"

Jund gave his best impression of the other's deadpan expression. "No, it's a dentist appointment."

"No need for sarcasm," Snake snapped, standing and peeking over at the date, "Huh. What the hell did a scrawny whelp, like you, do to get locked up for so long?"

"Hey, without that second hearing, I'm looking at, at least, twenty years."

Scott nearly grinned at his cellmate's reaction. It wasn't big and obvious, but, the marginal widening of pale eyes was enough to boost his ego.

"What did you do?"

Jund carefully taped the calendar up, above his bunk, smiling at the piece of home. The months were each a different, "Mario Brothers," character. This month's was Bowser.

"Drug trafficking."

Snake scoffed, sitting back down on his bed, "Let me guess, you were moving a little weed, and you got caught."

"It was actually heroin."

The bigger man immediately felt uncomfortable. If that little fucker was going through withdrawal, he could become quite the handful.

"Please. I wasn't doing it. I was just looking for some money."

The older of the two sighed, silently, in relief. "Why did you need the money? You don't seem like some drug lord's buddy."

"It was for a friend." Scott's expression turned to one of nostalgia, or maybe home-sickness. "He needed money for a flight, didn't have it, was too proud to borrow it from his sister or mom."

Snake was intrigued, "Where was he going?"

"I guess someone was in Sweden. Maybe he needed to see that someone."

"My other two friends were gonna chip in, but the idiot wouldn't take money, from anyone. Said he didn't want to owe us anything. So, I decided to... make the money, buy the ticket, and give it to him, saying I couldn't return it."

Scott's story dragged on, "I tried picking up shifts at work. Didn't happen. Then I found some guys. They would send me to Texas with the stuff, and then their buddies would send me back with some other stuff. They said I would make at least ten grand."

"Idiot," the outburst earned him a glare.

"Anyway, I barely got past the airport's doors. They snagged me, but I guess I could get another hearing in a few months, with good behavior. My dad had found me the coolest lawyer."

"Good for you," Snake drawled.

"Do I detect some jealousy?" Jund retorted.

"I wouldn't ever be jealous of a moron, like you."

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**I just made this up, as I went. Sorry if you hate it.**

**Also: Yeah. I did the Pewdiecry. I did it, and I'm not very proud.**

**-D.O.C**


	3. Penpals

**Sorry if no one liked the last installment.**

**-D.O.C**

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"Oh, man. You wouldn't believe how awful it is, in here."

The connection crackled, and Scott, again, cursed at the prison phone.

A deep voice, on the other end, answered, "Oh, Jund, dude... Why did you even do it? Russ and Red are worried, sick! Yunnie, too!"

"Tell them I'm fine," The man leaned his forehead against the phone's box, careful not to hit a button with his nose, "and, that Minx is an ass."

"She misses you, too. Don't worry. She and Krism were all freaking out when they heard. And, Raven was worried."

A few other voices floated through the receiver, and a muffled, "Put it on speaker," was tossed out.

Soon, Scott was bombarded with questions. He could mainly pick out Red and Russ.

"Guys, I should probably get going. Other people need the phone," He said, peeking over his shoulder at a burly man, who was waiting for his turn.

A chorus of goodbyes sounded, loudly, in his left ear, and he replaced the phone with a _**click**_.

"Could you be any more dodge-y?" A voice rasped behind him, as he went to sit on a bench, to wait until they were all called back to their cells.

Scott jumped, whipping around to answer Snake, "What?"

"Why didn't you just tell that guy why you did it, instead of changing the subject?"

Jund's jaw clenched. "Why don't you fuck off? Don't you see me, enough?"

He sat down on the bench, as the other man leaned on the wall, next to him.

"I was going to make a call, but eavesdropping on yours was entertaining."

"A call to who," Scott snapped, mood souring, "the guy you offed? His family, maybe?"

Icy eyes hardened, and Snake started to shake.

_'Oh, fuck me...' _The lanky man groaned, inwardly.

"I might fucking kill you, in your sleep, tonight."

With the threat in place, the bigger of the two stormed away, scaring a young punk away from a phone.

As Snake picked up the receiver, he took a calming breath, before dialing.

"Hello?"

The prisoner's brow furrowed, "Hm. I was looking for a friend. I think I have the wrong number."

Snake hung up, and re-dialed, checking the number as he did so.

"Um... Hello?" The same deep voice answered, and the man became even more confused.

"Uh, hi. I'm trying to reach a girl- she goes by Yunnie."

"Oh!" the voice nearly oozed conviviality, and he frowned at the open friendliness, "Sorry, friend! I'm a guest of hers, but she's busy, right now."

"Oh." Snake said, uncomfortable. When had the girl gotten a boyfriend?

"Yeah," the man at the end of the line was seemingly unaware of the awkwardness. "So, could I take a message?"

"Well, I'm kind of tight for time." The blue-eyed male glanced at the clock on the high wall, "Is she going to take long?"

"I'm not sur- Wait... _Yunnie! Hey! There's a guy who wants to talk to you! _Hang on, she's right here, buddy."

"Hello?" The high-pitched voice of his friend was near-soothing to his frayed nerves.

"Hey,"

"Snake! Wow! I hadn't heard from you, in so long! Are you alright?" The concern was all too real, even if she was only a face-less pen pal.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't have anyone else to call." He nearly smiled at her worry.

"Don't you dare apologize! I always have time to talk to you, Snake."

"Thanks. It's been a rough week."

"How so?"

"Well, I got a cellmate. He's a little shit. Then, I try and call my only contact, and her boyfriend picks up, instead."

Yunnie laughed, "Oh, you mean Cry? No, he's just a friend. We all got together, and you're crashing the party."

Snake smirked, nearly laughing along with her, "Sorry, about that."

"We were actually together because of our friend, who got sent to the same prison, as you." She explained, "Now, I have two pen pals from there."

He sobered, "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know we got a new kid."

"Yeah, but he'll be back in a bit. Nothing serious." He could hear the lie, and the insecurity, but he didn't point it out.

"I'm sure he'll be home, soon. Don't worry about him."

"Yeah,"

Snake wrapped up his call, mood significantly brighter than before he had contacted the girl.

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Scott whimpered, backing away.

"Listen, dude. I didn't mean it." _'You're pathetic, Jund.'_

Snake growled, stomping toward the smaller man, a thick air of anger around him.

"You didn't mean it? Oh, really?"

"Yeah!" Scott's eyes scrunched shut, and he flattened himself further along the wall.

"You know what?" Snake suddenly stopped, and he retreated back to his bunk, "You're not even worth it."

"Not worth it?" Jund's eyes opened.

"You're not worth the air you breath."

"Ouch, that one stung."

"Good."

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**Third chapter done. Cool. Yeah.**

**-D.O.C**


	4. Whispers

**Shoo bee doo bee doo bah!**

**-D.O.C**

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**I don't intend to offend anyone!**

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Scott was awoken by a loud scuffle, and he jumped out of his bunk.

_'Oh, he's serious. He's gonna kill me! He's gonna kill me!'_

It was well-past, "lights out," and he could barely see anything, but, he could make out the large figure of his cellmate, pressed against the bars, whispering harshly.

"Say that again. I dare you."

Jund carefully sat back down, lying down, as quietly as possible.

He strained his ears to hear the muffled reply, "I _said_, I bet you're having a lot of fun with that new cellmate, of yours."

"_Fuck off_."

"Aw, is he still a little tender?"

"That's it." Scott rolled off his bunk, and slammed himself into the bars. "I swear to god, if you say something like this, again, I'll kick your ass!"

All was silent, until the rest of the hall started to howl with laughter.

Guards came in to check on the prisoners, and Snake hastily shoved the younger man backwards.

"Get in your bed, and act like you're asleep."

At the authoritative command, Jund found himself doing as he was told, and he tucked the blanket over his head.

He heard the doors clang open, and he could just hear his asshole of a roomie smirking.

"Evenin', men. How was patrol?"

"Snake, we can't have people fighting. You know this."

"It wasn't him! It was his bitch!" A loud voice echoed around.

"Please," Snake scoffed, "the little whelp has been asleep, for hours."

"Whatever you say, Snake." The sound of handcuffs being fastened was shockingly loud.

The door was shut, and locked, once more, and the boyish guy perked his head upwards.

The lights shut off, and Scott scanned the cell. No Snake.

"What the hell?" he sat in front of the bars, peering through them at the hallway. "Where'd he go?"

A few sly whispers answered him, but they were all lewd, except for one.

"They're taking him to the warden's. Get this all straightened out."

"What straightened out?" Jund craned his neck, deciding that the helpful murmer had come from the cell next to his.

"This _whole_ mess. You weren't even supposed to be put in with Snake. The guy's a psychopath."

Scott's eyebrow twitched. Sure, the guy was scary as shit, but, it was nothing he couldn't handle. He wasn't some little girl!

The rest of the prisoners faded out, and the thin man assumed they were either listening along with him, or trying to catch some winks, before they were awoken, again.

"How's he a psychopath?"

"Kid, did he even tell you what he did?"

"Yeah... murder." Jund tried to make his voice flat. These people didn't need to know that the fact gave him, quite frankly, the heebie-jeebies.

"And, what did you do?"

"Trafficking."

The voice came closer, and he guessed that the other male had scooted to the wall, between them.

"So, tell me, kid... Why would they put you, at your first offense, in a tank with the sociopathic... _cluster-fuck of insanity, that is Snake_?"

A few rumbles of agreement bounced off of the cinderblocks, and Scott's eyes narrowed, involuntarily.

"I don't really get it-"

"Please. Spare me. Lemme guess, he constantly has his nose buried in a book."

Jund looked back at the copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_, nestled, almost lovingly, between Snake's pillow and the wall.

"I'll take that as a yes. Is he always cleaning?"

Those icy eyes always took a break from the page, to sweep over the floor, checking for dust, periodically.

"Yeah..."

"Does he get violent?"

"All the damn time," Scott snorted.

"All of those are classic, in-fucking-sane traits, m'dear. Snake's not fit for even this prison. He's always messing with gangs, messing with guards, even messing with the warden. He's a risk to everyone."

Jund lied backwards, chewing those sentences over.

Finally, without sitting back up, he replied, "Who did he kill, to get in here?"

"Some people, like that penpal he's always gloating about, will tell you it was an accident. He'll tell you it was a public-service. These guys'll tell you it was a cold-blooded kill."

"And?"

"Well, the pigs will tell you it was plain murder. The warden? He'll tell you what the file says."

Scott found himself sitting up, once more, and gripping the bars. "What will you tell me?"

He could hear the rustle of clothing. That guy was shrugging. "I'll tell you the nitty-gritty. He killed a politician that was hoarding money. I heard he was some agent, who was supposed to take him in, but then... just took him out."

Jund stood up, and just sighed.

"Well, good for all of you, then."

"Hm?"

He sat on his bunk, and raised his voice, a bit.

"I'll believe it, when I get a second opinion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The adjacent-cell's occupant asked.

"Nothin'." Scott's head hit the pillow, and he dragged the cover over himself.

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Snake was walked into his cell, and he glared, when he saw the lump, underneath the second bunk's blanket.

"I thought I was getting my own, again."

"Not at all, Snake. Mr. Iplier was very adamant that you don't get your own cell."

"No, he's adamant that I don't get my own _way_."

The woman, uncuffing him, chuckled. "Probably. Have a good one, Snake. Keep outta trouble."

The door slid shut, and locks _**chunked**_.

The man wasted no time in throwing the covers off his cellmate.

"Thanks to you, I had to spend all night-"

Snake paused, when the younger male curled up tighter, eyelids squeezing shut, harder.

The bastard was a heavy sleeper.

"Snake..." Scotted mumbled, burrowing the side of his face into his pillow.

_'Is this little asshole dreaming about me?' _Snake scowled, darkly.

"Snake..." A long-fingered hand was throw outwards, catching onto his wrist.

_'The gall of this one.'_ His lip curled, but he found the unconcious persistence a bit... charming.

"Snake!" The whimper caught him off guard, and the man's brows twitched out of their constantly-annoyed position.

"What?!" He growled, jerking his hand away, face heating, slightly.

"Snake... Fuck... Off..."

Oh?

So... That's how things were?

Alright.

Scott was- rudely- awoken, by the cover of a paperback book being slapped to his cheek.

"OW! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Go dream about someone else." The larger man yawned, smirking at the angry expression on his roomate's face.

Jund snarled, grabbing the book, but then stopped.

"Hey... Since when did you start hitting me with paperbacks?"

Snake paused, "Well, wouldn't want you to lose too many braincells."

The thinner man growled something unintelligible.

"See? You can't even use words, correctly."

"I said, that you should go to hell."

"Hm. Creative. You only have three braincells left, and they're all fighting for attention."

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**Wow. They stopped fighting so violently, and their characters developed, a bit.**

**I'm proud.**

**-D.O.C**


	5. Warden

**I spy, with my little asian eye... Some pretty vague ****Pewdiecry!**

**Also, I posted the first chapter from this story on Tumblr, to test the waters. Ugh, I'm so nervous!**

**-D.O.C**

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Mark took a small sip of his soda, and frowned.

Opening a drawer in his desk, he pulled out a bottle of Captain Morgan's, and added a generous splash of amber liquid to his soft drink.

Turning his attention to his computer, he shrieked, as a small explosion erupted, in front of his character.

"Wade, you douche." Mark muttered, quickly clicking on the virtual workbench, and scattering a few materials to craft a sword.

He jumped, as the door opened, and a man walked in.

"Don't you ever knock, officer?!" He shouted, glasses slipping down his nose.

The officer's eyes narrowed, and he gestured to the glass of, "soda," on the desk.

"Hey, I deserve it, after playing midegames, with that prick, Snake." Mark collapsed on his chair, groaning.

"It's illegal, sir. Public intoxication-"

"Blah, blah, blah." He cut in, tossing the cup into a potted plant. "Anyway, how's Mr. Slenderman doin?"

"The heroin addict with the bad hair?"

"The child molester with the bad painting skills."

"I thought he was both."

Mark exited out of the game, and pulled up a file.

"He is. He's also a wuss. He was once taken down by a news reporter. Granted, it was that... handsome... Wilfred Warfstache..."

"Sir, you're drooling."

Mark quickly swiped at his lips, eyes hardening into a glare.

"Whatever. He can wait. What about Mr. Actual?"

"Sir?"

"What did he do, when he got back to his cell? I know you and... What's-Her-Face took him back."

"Well, me and Guerez did escort him back, but he just exchanged some small talk, and then we left."

"He didn't act violently, towards Scott Jund?"

"Not that we saw..."

Mark rubbed his chin, and then stood, smoothing his suit.

"I need to go see someone."

"Who?" The officer raised a brow, as the half-korean man just fished in a drawer for his keys.

"Cry Aotic. He's an old pal of mine."

"Alright. We'll hold down the fort."

**88888888888888**

Mark pulled random directions from his memory, and he prayed that he would stop making wrong turns.

Here he was, looking for some guy that he had played video games with, about three times.

A guy he had met at a bar, after both their groups of friends ditched them, and they were left alone to stumble through dark alleys, trying to find their ways back to their respective apartments, but only making it back to one building.

A guy who thought it was socially acceptable to wear an enamel mask, in public, half the time. A guy who probably didn't even remember who he was.

"MARK!"

_'I stand corrected.' _Mark smiled, a bit startled, as Cry enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Ahem... Mr. Aotic."

"Oh? We're so formal, now, huh? Alrighty then, _Mr. Iplier._" The other male laughed heartily, fixing his mask with his fingertips.

"I'm here on business," he took a seat on the plush couch, "and I have some questions."

Cry pulled his mask to the side, so Mark could see his confusion. "What about, friend?"

"I... have someone in... my care."

"Your prison." the mask was pulled back, and Cry's posture stiffened.

_'He always does that when he's nervous. Stupid trick of his... Now I can't see if he's lying, or not.'_

"Why did you get nervous, Aotic?"

"I'm not."

Mark studied his prey, like a hawk, police-trained eyes picking up on everything.

The flexing of muscles in his forearms meant he wanted to clench his fists. The split-second movement on the inside of his shoe meant his toe had twitched. He wanted to start tapping his foot.

The hardening of the tendons in his neck... Oh, he wanted to swallow. He wanted to, but that would give him away.

"Do you know a man by the name of Actual?"

Cry's neck relaxed, adam's-apple bobbing, as he swallowed. He wasn't so nervous, anymore. The attention was off of him.

"No, I mean, the name's not familiar."

"But, you do know, uh... Scott Jund?"

"Yes! Jund went to your prison, didn't he?! Is he alright?!" Panic caused his shoulders to stiffen, violently.

"Yeah, the guy's fine." Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Do you know if Scott was connected to someone named Snake Actual?"

"No, but he's always been kinda a loner. He'd hang out with us, but he'd mostly just stay at home, and go to work."

_'Hm. Snake's never lasted so long with a cellmate, so I thought they already knew each other. I thought they were connected.'_

"That's all I needed to know. I'll keep an eye on Scott, for you."

"Can you-"

"I can't release him... But I can make sure he keeps his record perfectly clean. He'll get out on good behavior. Don't worry."

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"What?" Cry took off the mask, face flushing.

"I heard that you had a... man over."

The phone was put on speaker, and he swallowed, thickly.

"I would never!"

"Are you blushing?"

"No!"

"You know how much I love it when you blush."

"I thought you had six broken bones!"

"Does that mean all my bones are broken?" He could _hear_ the lascivious expression on that face.

_'Oh god...'_

**88888888888888**

Scott shivered, yawning.

"Come on, asswipe! Give me my damn blanket back!"

"Shh. I'm trying to sleep."

Jund jumped up, and he lunged at the blanket, falling flat on his face, after Snake landed a lazy kick to his shoulder, causing him to stumble with his misplaced momentum.

"Ahem."

Scott dragged his throbbing face off the concrete, and focused his eyes onto a pair of equally dark irises.

"You're Scott Jund."

"No, dipshit. I'm Snake."

"And I'm Batman."

Scott looked at his cellmate, in surprise, before rolling onto his sore shoulder, chortling.

Snake's face was perfectly deadpan, bed-head sticking up in all directions, raspy voice nearly fitting the role of the Dark Knight, perfectly.

"I-I've been tryin' to get him to say it, a-all day!" Jund choked out, and he pulled himself into a sitting position.

_'The last inmate to ask him to do the Batman voice was put in the hospital... He must be... bored. He needed entertainment, and he got this Jund guy.'_

"Mr. Jund, I'm Warden Iplier."

Scott's laughter stopped, abruptly. The silence that ensued was shattered, by a curse.

"Oh, fuck."

Snake looked at the lanky man, whose face was bright red, "You just called the warden a, "dipshit," Campbell."

"Um, sir. I'm sorry, I mean..."

"No harm done," Mark Iplier turned, walking down the hall and whistling a cheery tune, thoughts set on decoding that enigma of a man.

**88888888888888**

**Yeah, Markiplier's name is Mark Fischbach. But it's weird using real names in fanfiction. Even Jund. It's weird.**

**Mark's also a cool-ass Let's Player, and he's co-oped with Yami, Pewds, Cry... Basically everyone _but_ the usual members of the Late Night Crew.**

**But... That'd be a cool stream night... Let's get on that. I wanna see that.**

**-D.O.C**


	6. Cards

**Well, another girl got under my boyfriend's skin... and under his clothes.**

**Fuck these people. -_-**

**-D.O.C**

**8888888888**

**Sorry, if I offend anyone!**

**8888888888**

"So, where ya from?"

Snake gave Scott that blank, dead look, "Twos?"

Growling something about, "cheating asses," Jund threw down his only two, giving his cellmate another pair of cards to add to his growing stack.

"Got any... Aces?"

Snake shook his head, not too keen on lowering himself to utter the childish words, "_Go fish_."

He, instead, inquired, "Do you have any fives?"

"Go fish. Lemme guess, you're from... Texas?"

He shook his head, "Midwest."

"Oh, well, any... sixes?"

They continued playing their mundane game, until Jund's short attention span called for something more stimulating.

"Let's play fifty-two card pick-up!"

Before the ex-agent could react, cards started to flutter down, around them both.

"You're picking these up, and color-coding them,"

Scott raised an eyebrow.

"_Now._"

"No."

Snake growled, about to hit the little shit, but Scott's expression stopped him.

His face... it was so damn smug. Happy, even. And Snake couldn't wipe that smile off those lips. It was too contagious.

Glancing at the corridor's clock, his heart jumped. It was Visitor Hour.

"Clean 'em up, Campbell."

He then stood, right as two men came to unlock the door and retrieve him.

"The usual signed up."

He rolled his ice-colored eyes, "Who else would sign?"

**8888888888**

Snake was never happy, in the prison.

The closest times he ever felt happy, were when he was seated in that cold, steel chair, at the cold, steel table. His hand wrapped around that grimy phone, three inches of glass separating him from the normal citizens.

"Hi, Snake!" That caramel-haired girl. She was the reason that Visitor Hour, on the third Saturday of each month, was the time where he felt closest to happiness.

"Yunnie."

She grinned, oblivious to the few malicious prisoners behind Snake. "So, how's the roomate?"

He sent a glare over his shoulder, and then turned to answer his friend. "Awful. He's a dick."

Her smile grew. "Sounds like puppy-love, to me."

Snake glared, when she started to laugh, and scoffed at her statement.

"You watch too much anime."

They spent the remainder of their ten minute time-slot with mindless drabble, before Snake was cuffed, once more.

Yunnie waved, through the glass, and turned to leave.

As she walked through the doors, she quickly turned around, heading straight back in.

_'It'd be so awkward, if they recognize me...'_

She went up to the desk, smiling at the woman behind it. She was relieved. It was a different person, one she'd never seen, before.

"Hi, I'm Raven Zutara!"

"Of course, please, sign here." They wouldn't allow her two visits, in one day, so, she borrowed a name.

"Scott!"

The man sat on the chair, and picked up the phone, "Hey,"

"Oh, Scott, I'm so glad to see you!"

Instead of talking about the same things that she and Snake talked about, Yunnie cut straight to what she needed to hear.

"Why did you do it?"

Jund sighed, rolling his eyes. "Does it even matter, anymore?"

"Yes, it matters!" She glared.

"Well," he started, "Cry needed that ticket. You know, to go see Felix."

"I thought you were grossed out by all that." She huffed, sneering through the pane, between them.

"It's not my business what Cry does with the guy. It's just not my cup of tea." He shrugged, "But, tell them, "hi," for me. And I'll be back in a few months."

He hung up the phone.

**8888888888**

It wasn't that Scott was a homophobe. Hell no!

One of his best friends was having an international, gay relationship, for christ's sake! He supported them, wholeheartedly.

He was just a bit uncomfortable, when he was around them.

It wasn't that he was weirded-out by relationships, either. He'd had his share of girlfriends, and they all had been taken around his group of friends, so he knew it wasn't the idea of romance between friends. Hey, Red and Russ had been together, for as long as he could remember, and he was always okay around them.

There was just... something about seeing the swede and Cry together. It made his stomach twist.

When he had voiced this fact, though, Cry had gotten extremely angry.

_"What the fuck, Jund?! Why can't you just stop bitching, for once, in your life?!"_

_"I'm not bitching! I'm just telling the truth!"_

_"Well, shove the truth up you ass. Fuck off, Jund."_

He even helped plan an anniversary party, for the pair, only seven months, earlier. It was one of the many occasions, where Felix visited the States. Of course, Jund didn't attend, though.

Scott loved both of them, to death. He was always happy, when they all hung out, together. But, as soon as those two kissed, or hugged, or held hands, he bolted. He could always come up with a plausible excuse to ditch them, somewhere.

"Soup."

Jund looked up, just in time to catch the book that was lobbed, at him. "Cut the book shit, already. What do you want?"

Snake cracked his neck, lying back down. "I want to know why you've been sitting on the floor, for two hours."

"I don't think that's any of your business." He huffed back, tossing the book onto the top of the stack, next to Snake's bunk.

Steel-blue eyes narrowed, "I don't care if it's my business. You're incredibly stupid-looking, when you're sad."

Scott wasn't sure to be consoled, offended, or creeped out, by the statement.

So, he chose the prior, grinning in comfort at his cellie. "If you don't want me sad, we should play more Go-Fish."

Snake spent an eternity staring at the smiling idiot, but he finally caved, handing the deck of cards to the other man.

"Fine. But, throw those in the air, again, Campbell, and I'm kicking your ass."

**8888888888**

**Bleh. I need to get back to myself. **

**-D.O.C**


End file.
